


Lover Boy

by Izcana



Series: Lover Boy [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, F/M, Grievers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izcana/pseuds/Izcana
Summary: She rides the box to her doom, though she didn't know that at first. The only ones who greet her are Alby and Newt, the two being first to be up there. Then comes the greenie, precisely a week after she comes to the Glade, not that they knew. His name is Minho, and she knows him well, and vice versa. Strange things begin happening, and noticeably, she's different. How long can she keep the secret, and what happens after? Even stranger, two years after that, two greenies come two days in a row, and one of them triggers the ending while the other performs a miracle. Who are they to her? How does everybody fit in?Here's the story of the first five Gladers who became inseparable.
Relationships: Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt (Maze Runner)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Lover Boy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982269
Kudos: 5
Collections: Oc Centric Fics, Rainy Day Reads





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OmegaJay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmegaJay/gifts).



> This is not a Newt x Reader story, but if you want it to be, I can write another version of this series (or if you would like to simply spare me the trouble, just think of Cyrah as yourself) if anyone prefers that. Please comment, I don't read minds!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Maze Runner series, James Dashner does. He also owns most of the characters and a small portion of the plot. This story follows the book rather than the movie (because I haven't watched the movie) if there be a need to choose between one.  
> *This book has a different plot to the book.

_The boy watches as they take the girl from him._

_He fights, but WICKED is prepared. They take his sister away._

_They promise him he'll see her in a week. And he will._

_But he won't remember her._

_To him, she'll only be a girl by the time he's inserted._

_Maybe she'll be familiar, but that's it. No more, just friends._

_She's all he has left. She means everything to him._

_At least she's with Newt._

_He wishes her all the luck._

_And tells her silently he'll see her in a week._


	2. Chapter 1

Newt's P.O.V.

I wake up lying near a small lake in the middle of the forest. There are a few occasional grunts from far but they don't sound human. Next to me, there's a boy with dark skin. He has his brown hair almost completely cut to the scalp and is quite tall with muscles. If I have to guess, I'd say he's about 16. 

With a pang, I realise I don't even know how _I_ look like or my age. " _Newt",_ repeats in my brain. I suppose that's my name. I don't know much about this sudden amnesia, but it's better if I remain calm. I take a while to get used to my surroundings, not bothering to get up yet.

The boy next to me starts to stir. His neck twitches and his fingers stretch. I can tell he's awake.

"Hello. What's your name?" My voice comes out husky from disuse, and I didn't know I have an accent.

The boy jumps at my voice. He hadn't seen me yet. He opens his eyes and frowns. "I'm...Alby?" He says uncertainly after a bit of consideration. "And you are..."

"Newt," I say. 

"Why can't I---"

"Remember? I can't either," I tell him. This amnesia is weird. It scares me that we have the same problem, and even more for that it isn't just a coincidence.

"Okay," he shakily says, slowly getting up. "Do you wanna explore this place?" He asks.

"Sure, there's not much to do around this buggin' forest anyways," I say, and get up. "Bloody hell." I have a massive headache and it takes me a few moments to fight off. I can see Alby having the same problem, both of us holding onto trees to steady our breathing.

"I forgot to ask, but do you think we should start to settle things here?" He asks as we walk around. There's a wooden building that looks a bit unstable, fields, and a livestock pen. So _that's_ where the moaning and grunting came from.

"Give us a break, man," I tell him. "Just to mope and do nothing. Tomorrow we can get settled."

"Sure, whatever," he says and we continue making our way around the structures and walls. 

We sit around in trees for the rest of the afternoon and just wait for nightfall, neither of us speaking. Then, I remember something I wanted to ask him before.

"Alby, can you describe what I look like?" I ask.

"Like...a pile of klunk," he says.

"What's that?" I ask, thinking maybe I'd forgotten some vocabulary when I lost my memories.

"I don't know," he says. "It's just something I made up. It means poo, I suppose."

"Why's that?" I ask though I can probably guess.

"'Cause 'klunk' is the sound poo makes when it drops into a pot."

"That's disgusting. How do you remember the sound poo makes when it drops down the loo?" I ask, crinkling my nose. It's strange how we can remember everyday things or in Alby's case, random things.

"I don't know, it just popped up," He says.

"In all honesty though, how would you describe me?"

"Ummm..." he says, sizing me up with his eyes. "180 centimetres, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, olive skin with freckles? I don't know, I'm terrible with descriptions."

He definitely isn't good, but he gave a sense of what to base on. I picture myself in my mind using his descriptions, and I actually get something that looks reasonable, though I'm not certain _accurate_.

"It's good enough, thanks," I say and walk back to the large shack which we decided to call the Homestead. He follows.

"Let's turn in tonight," Alby says and I comply. We both find rooms with beds in them next to each other.

"Well, night," I say before going into my room.

"Night," Alby says and we close the doors and get into our beds.

The beds are springy and had blankets on them with a medical smell, ready-made with corners tucked in like a hotel blanket. _Why do I remember that_? 

I pull off the blanket and sleep on the mattress. It's cold, but I need to feel it. I need to feel something different in the world, to make sense of things. Curling into a ball, I fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

Cyrah's P.O.V.

I wake up on a dark metal floor that's shaking. The darkness is disorienting and harsh, almost like a heavy blanket that's suffocating you, but at least it's not silent, that'll be unbearable. There is a clanging sound, and I wince as there is an agonisingly painful screech. 

I hobble around slowly, my legs still a bit sleepy from staying still so long. I grip the nearest thing next to me, which just happens to feel like a dagger – I cut myself on the blade.

The dark box suddenly becomes bright, not giving me a moment to adjust to the sudden light. I lift up my arm – not the one with the knife – to cover my face and for the first time since coming here, I start to notice what I look like. I have pale skin and raven black hair, though I can't tell if it's curly or straight. 

Two boys are standing above me and one climbs down to me. He has dirty blonde hair and startling blue eyes with freckles. "Hey, I'm Newt. Welcome to the glade," he says. He has a heavy accent, but I can't tell from where. 

I raise my dagger slightly, holding the point dangerously close to his chin. "Um...can you...put that down?" Newt stuttered though it _could_ be the blade that'll kill him if I decide to move it. "What's your name?"

"I'm..." _Cyrah,_ "Cyrah," I finished. I notice I have the same accent as Newt. 

"Oh?" He says. "I've been spending so much time with this guy here," he jabs a thumb at the guy with dark skin who smiles good-naturedly and waves at me. "that I'm startled to hear someone with the same accent as me!" Evidently, he noticed too. "Here, let me help you out." 

He seems friendly enough. I lower the blade a bit, slowly, but I still grip it loosely in my hand.

Like a gentleman at the ball, he offers me a hand. "Why are you wearing that?" He says gesturing to my outfit and turning pink. I look down and see what I'm wearing that makes him turn pink, and I feel my cheeks heat up as well. 

I'm wearing an off-the-shoulder emerald coloured evening gown that looked fit for a reception, not for...well, this. "I don't know, maybe the people who put us here...never mind, I don't know," I say, cheeks reddening even more from embarrassment and just _wishing_ the box would swallow me..

He chuckles kindly. "Let's go up now, shall we, Love?" He asks. _Love?_ That's new.

"Sure," I say.

He gives me a hand and we half climb up and are half pulled up using a rope. It's really awkward with my long dress and crystal slippers but he helps me and we manage. 

"Welcome to the glade...Greenie," the guy with the dark skin says. "I'm Alby."

"Nice to meet you Alby," I say. "Why 'Greenie'?" 

"'Cause you're all dressed in green," he says, smiling. He has a kind smile with slight dimples, and I have a feeling we are going to get along.

"Fair enough," Newt intertwines. "Let's go, Greenie, I'm gonna show you your buggin' room," he says.

"Do you think...the creators of this place sent me... clothes?" I ask. I don't really want to wear their clothes, they look...well...way more muscular than me.

"I don't know. Should we check?" Newt asks.

"Guys, you know, it's really awkward being the third wheel," Alby says. We both blush and look to the ground. "See? You guys even do the same things together, it's...well...you know what I mean," he finishes awkwardly.

"Okay, whatever, shall we go down now?" I ask. I had just met Alby moments ago, and he is already starting to feel like an annoying brother. 

"Yeah, come on, Love," he says and climbs down the rope. I do the same, though slightly slower because of my outfit. "You look really pretty in that dress, did you know?" He asks, slightly blushing, and right on cue, I turn into a tomato. Or at least I think I did. There's no chance he didn't notice that, though he doesn't comment on it.

"Thank you," I mumble. 

"Welcome, Love," he says.

I start to go through the boxes and he does the same. Finally, he shouts, "Found it!" and we both climb up, though this time at the same speed since he offered to carry the box. 

"For the girl," I comment when we see the label on the box. "How original."

Alby chuckles as he leans over my shoulder. "What's in there?" He asks.

"A few hoodies, underwear, shirts, trousers, a pair of trainers, and a towel," I list off. "Oh, and look at this. A cotton nightgown and a velvet robe?" I scoff. "Here, a new packaged lip balm, elastics and hair-pins, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash." Both are grinning and nudging each other. 

"They really do spoil you, don't they?" Newt jokes. "All we had when we came here were a few shirts and trousers."

"Yes, well... not that a velvet robe is much use to me, but I suppose I'll take it, at least I have something different to wear to sleep..."

"Okay, Newt, how 'bout you give her the tour?" Alby says.

"Sure, can you cook?" 

"Okay, Newt," Alby says and starts towards the kitchen. "I should warn you, greenie, it's Newt who's been cooking this entire week. I'm terrible at cooking, we established that the second day with...um...personal experience," Alby says, looking back and grimacing.

"Okay, but shouldn't I...you know...change first?" I ask, looking at my emerald ball gown.

"Okay, Love," Newt says. "There are rooms in the Homestead, the big building over there."

"Great," I say and quickly grab a hoodie and some sweatpants. "I'll be quick!" I say, jogging to the wooden hut-like structure, but a bit bigger.

I quickly head to an empty room next to Newt's and across from Alby's and strip off my gown and throwing it onto the shelf that the Creators so _thoughtfully_ gave us. Not that I'm complaining, I _do_ want _some_ organisation, after all. 

I fold the gown and put it on the highest shelf. It'll be no use in this "Glade" where we'll have to work for our own survival. No fancy balls for me to attend, I guess.

I go back to where Newt was waiting for me at the entrance, this time sprinting to be quick. I can tell I'm completely in shape because I had just sprinted roughly 200 metres without batting an eye or panting afterwards.

He offers me his hand again and we walk around in the grassy area. 

"What's out there?" I ask Newt, pointing at the walls.

"Well...um..."

"It's a maze, isn't it?" I ask quietly. It's like something clicks in my brain, and the words are forced out involuntarily.

He looks at me in shock, and his jaw drops. "How did you...Do you still have any of your memories?"

"Well, I remember...being here. Not any specific memories related to this place, but I feel like...I've been here a lot before. Did either of you feel like that?"


	4. Chapter 4

Newt's P.O.V.

"Well, I remember...being here. Not any specific memories related to this place, but I feel like...I've been here a lot before. Did either of you feel like that?" She asks, her beautiful eyes going to the floor.

I sucked in a breath, shocked. 

"Feel like what?" Alby asks.

"Feel like you've been here before?" Cyrah asks hopefully.

"Uh...no," Alby says, thinking the same as me. 

"We literally spent one day moping about adjusting to unfamiliar surroundings," I chime in.

"Did you tell her about---"

"She knew," I say. Alby does the same thing I did, he sucks in a quick breath and has his mouth wide open.

"You'll catch flies," Cyrah joked, giggling. Gosh, she's so beautiful when she's giggling, when the corners of her mouth go up. She has dimples as well, and there's a spark in her eyes that looks like it never fades. I think I may---

"Hello? Earth to Newwwt!" Cyrah says, waving her hands in front of my face. I turn the same shade as beetroot and look down.

She isn't finished yet, though. "I also pick up random information sometimes, like the fact that the box is being controlled by levers that---never mind," Cyrah says, turning red.

"That's impressive," Alby says. "Is that it?" He asks Cyrah. 

"I think so, but I'll let you know if something happens."

"Okay." When she talks, I can't help be sucked into her beautiful eyes that look green in the sunset but I'm not sure what colour they really are. Perhaps they're just green. Her hair looks like a curtain of silk, and it was done up with half up-do and a green jewelled barrette (that the creators so _thoughtfully_ sent with the dress).

"Newt? Is everything okay?" Cyrah asks, waving a hand in front of my face. Then she turns a bit red, but I think that's a trick of the light. "You're looking at me like I have something on my face?" I turn red again.

Alby bursts out laughing. "Ignore him," he says. "He's obviously taken a fancy to---" the rest is muffled by my hand blocking his mouth tightly, but I still know what he was going to say. Alby continues laughing while I sit there turning the same shade as a tomato. Cyrah just sits there looking bewildered, with a cute crinkle on her forehead.

"What do I look like anyway?" She asks. 

"You do it, Newt," Alby says and gives me a wink. I glare at him.

It does give me an excuse to stare at her face, though."Let's see," I say and then clear my throat. "Straight black hair, green, uh...actually I think they're hazel---eyes, high cheekbones, and rosy heart-shaped lips, pretty thin. Slender frame and pale skin. 13 years old? 12? 170 centimetres, maybe, so I don't think you're 12..."

She giggles. "Nice to see you've noticed my lips...And do you like what you see?" She teases.

"N-No...um...I m-mean...y-yes...I---oh let's just go eat!" I say while Cyrah covers her mouth to stifle her laughs whereas Alby laughs openly at my expense, not even bothering to hide it.

"Whatever you say, Commander Newt!" Alby says and salutes, practically giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Race you to the Homestead!" Cyrah yells.

"Sure," I say. I'm not sure if she could beat us, but I'll try...

"3...2...1...GO!" With that, we all run to the Homestead.

To my surprise, Cyrah is quicker than both of us as she darts to the Homestead on the damp grass. Alby trips once but we both keep going. The result was Cyrah with first place, me with the second, and well...you know who got the last place.

"No fair!" He complains. "You two didn't trip!"

"Then it's your fault for tripping, isn't it?" Cyrah asks, giggling.

"Whatever," Alby says. "Time to dig into---"

"The disgusting pile of klunk that Alby calls; 'food'," I complete for him while he glares.

"'Klunk' means poop, right?" She asks. 

"Yes, how did you know?" 

"I guessed," she said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand though I can tell she was lying. It wasn't that obvious, I'd even say she's _good_ at lying, but I feel like I _know_ her like we were friends before the maze. 

We all tentatively take a bite of the sandwich and while Alby and I eat with a grimace, Cyrah quickly spits out the food and wipes her mouth. "Alby, what did you do? Is it even possible to mess up a _sandwich_?" She asks and looks at him.

"Well, sorry Your Majesty, maybe you cook instead," he says with equal sass.

"Maybe I will," Cyrah says and stalks off to the kitchen. 

Alby glares at me. "Well?"

"She's right, you know," I tell him as I push away my "sandwich". "You are an _awful_ cook."

If it's possible, his glare becomes even more stormy. "You're just saying that because you like her!" He retorts. I suck in another big breath while he smirks. "I got you there."

"Haha," I say, pretending to be unfazed but it sounded more like squeaks coming out of my mouth.

"Nice try, Newt," he tells me. "Anyone can see you like her. Well, anyone but _her_." 

"Stop teasing me!"

"Fine, but um...good luck..." he says as Cyrah comes back. I pray she didn't hear our conversation.

My calls were answered. "Here you go!" She says brightly and handing us bowls of soup and noodles.

"Noodles?" Alby asks.

She shrugs. "At least it's better than what you call---"

"Please, not this again," Alby groans. 

Cyrah smirks. Oh, she looks so cute when she smirks... _wait, Newt, you'd just met her, you can't like her yet!_ That's not true, I can tell it's not. Somehow, I know we were friends before. I could tell when she was lying and when she holds my hand, it felt right like we've done it millions of times before. "It's true, and I never tell lies. Well, sometimes."

"Whatever," Alby says as he digs in. "I hate to say this, but it's really good!"

"Obviously better than the food Alby makes," I mutter.

"Hey, it's also better than the food _you_ make, so stop being a hypocrite!" He retorts back.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure Newt makes better food than _you_ do," Cyrah says pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah..." He grunts, glaring at her. 

I take my first bite. "Wow, this _is_ really good! What did you add?" I ask. "I made noodles for us a couple of times, and it never turns out as good as yours!" I say. 

She turns a very noticeable red. "It's nothing, I just added some garlic to the soup..." she mumbles and hides behind her hair.

"You're underrating yourself," Alby adds. "Seriously."

"I'm sure there's not much difference..." she says and continues eating, taking small bites. "Wait...chopsticks."

"Did you remember that?"

"Obviously," she rolls her eyes and sighs. "That's what you're supposed to eat noodles with."

"What are they?" 

"I'm surprised this isn't triggering anything for you. I remember it so clearly now..." she says. "Chopsticks are wooden or metal sticks that you use to eat with."

"Maybe we've just never used them before," I suggest.

"Fair enough," she says. "Have you got any sticks?" 

"Oh, make do with the fork for now," Alby says, rolling his eyes.

"We can go stick hunting tomorrow," I add.

"Sounds good."

We finish the rest of the meal in silence.

"You two are doing the dishes," Cyrah says, pointing at us.

"Wait, but at least I did _some_ work," Alby says, arguing his case. "So Newt's the one who hasn't done anything, and therefore _he_ has to do the dishes. _Alone,_ without _me_." 

"That's certainly a good idea," Cyrah says, smirking. "Newt, work your magic with the dishes," She orders.

"Thanks, Love," I say sarcastically as she tosses a rag at me and tells me to clean up.

There are only 3 bowls so it doesn't take long, about 5 minutes.

"I'm turning in," I tell the two of them after I finish. They're still talking at the table.

"Me too," Cyrah says. "Night, guys!

"Night," we both say and walk to our rooms in the Homestead.

Tonight, I pull the blanket up to my chin like a small child. I no longer need to be cold to feel anything, meeting Cyrah helps me fill that space with another feeling that I like.

While I'm trying to count sheep and sleep, all I can think about are a pair of beautiful light hazel eyes.


	5. Chapter 4

Cyrah's P.O.V.

I wake up to a gorgeous morning sky, all blue and clouds. The cows are mooing and the chickens are crowing. My fifth day in the Glade. I head outside for a breath of fresh air and sit down at the entrance. 

"Morning to you too," Alby says. I didn't bat an eye as I had already sensed he was there. 

"Is Newt up?" I ask. 

"Oh, is _someone_ missing _Newt_?" He asks with a goofy smile on his face. "Or did either of you just muster up the courage to confess your feelings?"

"Shut up!" I tell him and smack his head. He laughs.

"Oh, it was meant to be," he says. "One day you'll understand, little one." He does this weird circle dance that makes me double up laughing.

"Honestly..."

"Yes?"

"You are the..."

"Continue?"

"Worst at dancing," I deadpan.

"Darn. And here I thought you were going to be nice and compliment that I should have a crystal ball and then I'll be the expert witch," he says jokingly and speaks in a grave voice.

_"Newt and Cyrah, two souls as one_

_Combined with---_ oh shoot, nothing rhymes with Cyrah," Alby says, defeated.

I laugh. "Nice try, though. I'm going to wake up Newt."

"Sure," he says. "Make sure you're careful, he might pull you in for a good morning kiss or something like that."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, but on second thoughts...you might want that to happen..." he trails off as he sees how red I've gotten. "And that proves my theory!"

"What does?" I ask. I clearly know the answer, but denial is my only option now.

"Your face, of course!" He says, beaming while I scowl at him

"Okay, on second thoughts, I'm going to go inside instead of talking to you," I tell him.

"Sure, 'cause you want to talk to N---" He never finished since I smacked him hard on the arm "OW!"

"Don't mess with me, Albert," I say, wagging a finger at him. "You're named after Albert Einstein, you should be smart enough to know that."

"Does that mean I'msmart?" He says with a goofy grin. 

"No, stop thinking way too much, it doesn't suit you," I tell him and he grins.

"You really are sassy, aren't you?" He asks.

"Yes, that's me!" I say mock-brightly and give him a fake cheerful wave and fake giggle.

"Okay, for real now, I think you should go wake Newt," he says.

"This isn't another one of your matchmaking schemes, is it?" I ask.

"Wait---so you _do_ agree that you like Newt! Oh, I got the best tea ever!" He tells me.

" _No,_ I never said that, and besides, you're acting like an immature fangirl!"

"Whatever, go wake your Lover Boy," he tells me. "I'll make breakfast!"

"No, don't!" I tell him. 

"Fine, _you_ make breakfast, then!" He tells me.

"Will do!" I yell back before jogging to Newt's room.

I find the door to his bedroom by checking for mine. I know his bedroom is on the left of mine and in front of Alby's. It's easy to tell since both our doors were ajar, and while I made my blankets and organised my shelves when I take a peek at Alby's bedroom, it's very messy, clothes were strewn all over the floor and the blankets and pillows tangled into a big pile. I put a self-reminder to remind him to tidy his room.

"Newt?" I say after knocking twice on his door. He doesn't reply so I barge into his room. There Newt lies, with his blankets tucked up to his chin and his mouth slightly open, releasing quiet rumbly snores. He looks so cute, that for a moment, I actually believed Alby when he told me I have a crush on Newt. 

The room smelt like him too, like grass, morning dew, sweat, and earth. For a moment, I just stood there inhaling the sweet mixture.

"Newt?" I say, gently tapping his shoulder. I don't want to wake him, he looks adorable, but I have to. In this Glade, there is no time for stalling and lying in bed, there's work to be done, and with only 3 people available, we need all the help we can get.

"Morning," he mumbles and turns to his side.

"Morning Newt," I say and he shoots awake.

"Oh, hi Cyrah, sorry for the mess, it also smells so bad, and oh, I didn't take a shower last night or organise the sheets or---"

"Calm down, Newt," I say, giggling. His outburst was completely unnecessary, but I appreciate that he cares. "It doesn't matter, I was unfazed when I saw all that, anyway. I must have known someone messy."

"Yeah," he mumbles and turns bright red. 

In a spur of the moment decision, I kiss his cheek, or rather peck. I didn't wait to see his reaction before I turn around and call him to come to eat breakfast when he's changed. 

I leave the room, very clearly feeling a pair of sea-blue eyes burning at the back of my head.


	6. Chapter 5

Newt's P.O.V.

Oh, gosh. _SHE KISSED ME!_ On the cheek, yeah, and it was just a little peck, but still a kiss.

 _Okay, calm down, Newt, it probably meant nothing, just a friendly kiss. She probably gave Alby one also._ Maybe I'll ask about it.

I walk outside to find Alby. "Hey Al," I say. "Where's Cyrah?"

He smirks. "Missing your _girlfriend_ , are we?"

"Shut up!" I say and push him. "Anyway, I need to ask you something. _In private_. "

"Okay," he says seriously. "I'm all ears."

"Answer truthfully. Did Cyrah ever kiss you on the cheek?" I ask him, hoping she didn't.

"No, why? She'd just met me," he added.

"Well, I---"

" _Wait..._ " he interrupts. "SHE KISSED YOU?"

"On the cheek, yeah," I say, my face heating up. "Oh, God, please don't tell her about this conversation," I say.

"Wow! Okay, what you have to do to set up a marriage is---"

"Gosh, Alby, she just kissed me on the cheek! And it was probably just a friendly kiss! It's not like we're having babies!"

"Now that would be a sight..." he trails off. "Any baby names? Can I be the godfather? Should we go shopping for---?" He continues firing questions.

"Would you shut up?" I ask, covering his mouth. "Cyrah does not need to know about this!" 

"I don't need to know about what?" Cyrah asks, handing us each a plate piled with pancakes.

"Uh...u-um....n-nothing...n-nothing at a-all..." Smooth, Newt, real smooth.

"Okay?" She says. "If it's nothing you can tell me."

"Well?" She asks with her hands on her hips and waits when I don't say anything, but instead of telling her what she was waiting for, I could only focus on how _absolutely ravishing_ she looked. "Like what you see, don't you?" 

And there, right on cue, I turn into a tomato.

"Well...I---"

"Cyrah, these pancakes are _really good_! Can you give me the recipe?" Alby requests and I thank him with my eyes for distracting her. I'm sure he understands, but then he gives me a wink and smirk and I glare at him.

Cyrah shoves him playfully. "Even if I did, you'll ruin it and it'll be a waste of an _amazing_ recipe. Obviously created by Yours Truly."

Alby glares at her while we both clutch our stomachs and laugh, almost like wheezing.

"All jokes aside," Alby says, trying to change the topic. "We have to split up the jobs today."

"Newt, you can weed, water, and fertilize the plants. Alby, you should go feed the animals and clean the pen, it stinks already, and I'll go gather stuff, work as the doctor, and just help you guys."

"Sounds good to me," I say, referring to Cyrah's plan. 

"Damn, Greenie! Only the first week and you're already taking charge!"

"And Alby, you might want to clean your room," Cyrah adds as an afterthought, ignoring his last comment.

"But–––it's not that messy, and–––" he sputters.

"Uh, don't bother protesting," She says, cutting him off, and beckons both of us to follow. 

We both do, him more reluctantly than me though.

I find it hard to catch up with her when she's running, although she does pause a bit for us to catch up. I swear, someone must have stuck her on a treadmill and made her train every single day for her to be this fast! It's bloody amazing!

When I finally catch up with her after she slows down, I get a good look at her while running by her side. The wind that flows through in the side while we're running dances in her angelic hair and her eyes hold a sparkle of mischief and happiness as she grinned. 

"Newt, what do you think?" She asks. I don't notice when we stopped running, but we're in front of Alby's room now.

"I'm s-sorry, c-could you...um..."

Cyrah looks exasperated. "You didn't catch any of that, did you? Does he always zone out what other people say?" She asks, directing this at Alby.

"Well, no, but ever since you got here, he's gotten a bit distracted by–––"

"Shut up!" I yell and cover his mouth. There is no way I'm letting him just tell Cyrah like that.

"Well, someone's sensitive about the topic, but it doesn't matter if you don't want to tell us. You can tell me anything, Newt," she says the last part softly.

"Okay," I agree. "What if I make a fool of myself?" The words seemed to roll out of my mouth involuntarily.

"You _won't_ make a fool of yourself. Besides, even if you did, it doesn't matter." 

"Thanks, Cyrah it–––"

"Guys, I'd hate to interrupt this lovey-dovey moment, but–––"

"SHUT UP!" We both yell at him and glare. He raises his hand in surrender and takes a step back in the corridor.

"You don't have to do that every single time," Cyrah mutters. Her cheeks are tinted red but they're probably nothing compared to my cheeks, they feel nuclear. I must look like the colour of beetroot, but thankfully Cyrah and Alby are too busy in their staring contest that they don't notice. 

I take this moment to calm down my face and appear at least somewhat normal. 

I listen to their conversation. Well, more like _watch_ their conversation. Every single time Cyrah talks, I focus too much on the mesmerising way her rosy heart-shaped and slightly thin –––though not in an unpleasant way ––– lips move.

They finally wrapped up their argument. "Guys? Can I know what you said now?"

"Well, I asked if you think Alby's room needs cleaning."

I peek inside Alby's room. It's strange, the whole time I've been in the Glade, I've never really been in my only friend's bedroom, and we live together. 

His room can definitely use some airing out and his all his belongings including the sheets are either in the corner somewhere, randomly thrown on the shelves, or piled on the bed. In short, Alby's room was certainly what you might call; a mess.

I voiced this out loud and obviously got an unpleasant scowl from Alby while Cyrah smirked smugly and knowingly.

"Oh, what's the big deal?" Alby asks trying to defend himself.

"The big deal, my dear, is that your room looks like klunk."

"Oh, whatever, I bet your room is just as messy!"

Wordlessly, she points him to her room just next to his'. I peek in as well, and her room was spotless. The sheets are made, and her clothes are all folded on the shelves and everything. 

"Well, that's not fair, you–––"

"Yes?"

"Uh...Ugh, whatever!" Alby throws up his hands and leaves, having no comeback.


	7. Chapter 6

Cyrah's P.O.V.

It's certainly a busy morning.

"Hey, Cyrah, can you come to help me with my room?" Alby yells.

"No, it's your mess, you clean it!" I call back.

"Please? You won't have to do anything, you can just tell me where to put the things," he begs.

"Fine, but only if Newt helps me too."

"What did I do to deserve the _death sentence_?" He asks, pretending to be highly affronted. I can tell he's pretending, almost like I had known him before. 

"Oh, it's just 'cause Cyrah wants to spend time wi---" And there's my cue to block his mouth and smack him. "OW! What was that for?"

"You know what..." I growled. 

Newt looks nervous, he's fidgeting with his fingers. I wonder why.

"Besides, I'm not helping you if you don't stop," I add.

He raises his hands. "Okay, fine! Stop threatening me!"

"Let's go and get this over with," Newt says. Alby doesn't say anything to defend himself.

"Yeah," I agree and we reluctantly trudge to Alby's room.

"Uhhh..." He says after a while of staring at his bed, shelves, and floor. "I see what you guys mean now," he mumbles while we roll our eyes at him.

"Whatever, let's just start," I say and take a seat criss-cross on the floor.

"Well?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I do?" He clarifies.

I sigh. "First separate all your dirty clothes from your clean clothes. Remember to do laundry today."

"Does it really matter?"

"YES!" I yell at him.

"Okay, fine," he says and immediately starts to pile his clothes. I smirk while Newt zones out. Again.

"What are you doing?" I ask. He's sniffing his clothes.

"Doing the smell test," he says as if that's a perfectly normal thing to do.

"What's that supposed to achieve?"

"Well, the clothes that smell okay work as clean clothes, and the clothes that smell bad are to be washed," he explains.

That's gross and inefficient. I wrinkle my nose. "Boys," I mutter under my breath.

"Well, how do you do it, then?" Alby says defensively.

"Well, unlike _you_ ," I reply pointedly. " _I_ actually organise my clothes first thing. I don't throw my clothes around and try to figure out which ones are clean and which ones are not. I actually take off my clothes and put them in the laundry basket that's outside as soon I change out of them every day."

"Well, I don't have time for that!"

"If I do, you do," I retort.

"Whatever," he mumbles and continues doing the 'smell test'.

I open my mouth to make a remark and he sees. He hurriedly cuts me off. "I know, don't do the smell test. But I haven't organised it yet, so I have to do that for now."

"Fine," I say. "Good luck," I add as an afterthought while he keeps piling. 

"Done!" He says, proudly holding up a pile of dirty clothes.

"Okay, now go put them in the laundry basket."

He obediently shuffles outside while Newt and I wait.

"You're a really good leader, you know," Newt says after a while.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Before I can say anything back, Alby comes in. "I can't find the basket."

I roll my eyes. "Are you _kidding_ me? How can you not? It's _literally right outside your door_!"

"Oh," he replies dumbly. "I thought you said it's in your room." And _that's_ my cue to facepalm.

"Oh, whatever. Now fold your clean clothes and put them on the shelf," I tell him.

"Sure." He goes to fold his clothes. "Is this right?" He asks, holding a T-shirt that looks...well...messily crumpled instead of nicely folded.

"Oh, for goodness sake..." I mutter.

I then instruct him how to _properly_ fold a T-shirt. Alby stares the whole time.

"I did the exact same thing you did!" He protests.

"No way," Newt says. At some point, he had come over and is now peering over my shoulder. I shudder slightly at the close proximity and I know for a fact that my cheeks are rather...heated. "There's no way you did the same thing she did," he clarifies. 

"Uh-huh," I agree. "I mean, look at the difference!" I say while pointing at his attempt, and then mine.

He tries again and manages to do it, though it still looks a bit wonky.

"Now finish folding all the shirts and then go put them on the shelf _in neat piles_ ," I continue.

He does exactly what I say, and surprisingly, it doesn't take as long as I thought it would have. He then goes to put the clothes in piles on the shelf. _At least he does_ something _correctly,_ I think.

"Now what?"

"Um...make your bed."

"How should I do it?"

"Wait, you don't know how to make your bed?"

"Well, I only know how to fold the blanket and arrange the pillows," he corrects.

"Do that then!" I tell him, exasperated. He stretches out the blanket and folds it into neat squares.

"Wow, I didn't know you have it in you to fold that, man," Newt says, sitting on the edge of Alby's bed. 

He glares at Newt. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"That would have been a lot more intimidating if _only_ you could actually fold a T-shirt properly," I point out. Alby switches his glare to me instead of Newt.

"Whatever."

The rest of Alby's room goes fairly quickly since there's not much else to do.

We each head to our individual jobs, and while Alby and Newt go do what I said, I go collect supplies from the woods, taking a wooden basket with me.

I found pieces of wood that would be great for chopsticks, some sticks that can be made into splints in case anyone has an injury, and some sharp rocks.

"Guys! Come here!" Newt yells.

Alby and I race towards where Newt is, and obviously, I beat him by a long shot even though he is closer.

We're standing in a dim room only lit by a single light bulb that hangs from the ceiling. There are about a dozen rows of open trunks holding glinting pieces of metal. The silver-coloured blades and black handles give of sparks in the light. Weapons.

"What?" Alby asks.

"Look, they gave us weapons," he points. "They look sharp, too."

Alby walks forward. "Strange, the metal isn't rusty at all."

"It seems as if all of these weapons were recently polished," I add.

"I know."

"It's funny isn't it," Newt starts as we exit the weapons room. "How you talk, I mean," he clarifies, directing this at Alby.

"What do you mean?"

"Strange, the 'medal' isn' 'rusdy' ad all," I mimic. "You don't pronounce the 't's."

"Hey, I don't speak like that!" Alby protests.

"Yes, you do."

"Says who?"

"Two against one," Newt reminds him.

"You two are ganging up against me," he says. "Can you make lunch?" He asks Newt.

"Sure, shouldn't Cyrah do that though? I mean, not because you're a girl, but because your food tastes better and I'm sorry---" He rushes on and on, his face growing redder the more he talks.

"Slim it, man, just cook," Alby says.

"'Slim it'"? I question.

"Made it up." I nod.

"Whatever, let's just go," Newt says as he jogs to the kitchen. "It's bell peppers for lunch!"


	8. Chapter 7

Cyrah's P.O.V.

A shrill alarm sounds in the peaceful Glade. I jump at the noise, but Alby and Newt look around calmly, though still a bit shocked by the sudden noise. The animals all whine and moan at the noise. 

"Is that for the newbie?" I yell as we sprint to the box.

"Yeah..." Alby says. He's already panting. That guy _needs_ to get himself to the gym. Well, if we weren't trapped in a maze, that is.

We stop at the box and sit down since according to Alby, it'll be a while before the new person comes.

"Cyrah, do you want to go meet the Newbie?" Newt offers.

"Uh, it's fine, you can," I say. I don't want to, and Newt probably does it better anyway. 

"Okay...Let's hope the newbie reacts as well as you did," Alby says, grinning.

"Leave it, Alby," I grumble as we sit. Suddenly the rumbling sound that was previously coming from the box stopped, and we lift the handles that open the box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Newbie's (you'll see who in a moment)'s P.O.V.

I wake to standing and dizzy. I rock around and try to walk forward, but the darkroom I'm trapped in lunges, and I fall, luckily catching myself with my hands and then lifting myself into a sitting position.

"Hello?" I whisper, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

I try to focus on everything, anything that my brain has to give me, and the only thing I can come up with is that I'm in a box made of metal and the box is travelling up. I can't remember anything either, except for "Minho". _My name is Minho._

I continue pulling on my brain, picking at the seams, like my brain is a piece of quiltwork that I need to pick apart.

_C...cy...cy...almost there...cyr...Cyrah_!

The box lurches in an abrupt stop, sending me crashing to the floor. Abruptly, the 'lid' of the box slides open, and I quickly raise my forearm over to cover my eyes. 

After I adjust for a bit, I'm able to see the silhouette of three people, but I can't tell if they're boys or girls. I grab the nearest thing next to me, which are spare planks of wood, and I hold it up like a baseball bat, crouching behind the boxes.

_Cyrah._ I need to find Cyrah.

"Hello?" Someone jumps down from the top and I jump on him. He has an accent and blonde hair. About 14. "What–––"

"Where's–––" I never finished.

"Woah, Woah, calm down, man," he says, waving his hand. "I'll answer your questions later. Can I get up now? Feel free to keep the plank," he adds. "Not that you'll need it, though." 

I slowly get up and stand. I don't drop the plank. He rises to one knee, dusts himself down, and stands. He holds out a hand for me to shake. "I'm Newt, welcome to the Glade," he says. "What's your name?"

"Minho. Where's Cyrah?"

Newt gasps and his mouth drops open. "Do you still have any of your memories?" He asks hopefully. 

"No, why can't I remember anything? Where am I? WHERE'S CYRAH?" I demand.

"I'm coming down, Newt!" A girl with the same accent as Newt calls, throwing a rope at us.

"Love, you don't need–––" _Love?_

Too late. The girl jumps down and lands in a crouch. "Hey, what–––" she stops there, staring open-mouthed at me. She has black hair, hazel eyes, pale skin. About 13, maybe. _Cyrah._

"I know you..." she murmurs.

"Cyrah?"

"Uh...guys?" A guy asks. He has a deep voice. "Are you camping down there or something?" 

"Um...you might wanna come down, Alby," Newt mutters. "Slight issue."

"Yeah..." The boy named Alby says, and after a couple of moments, he jumps down with the rest of us.

Dark hair, dark skin, and a friendly smile. Looks about 16.

"What's up with the Newbies being dressed in green?" He huffs and I snicker slightly. "I guess you're the new 'Greenie' now, man," he says, offering me a slightly dimpled smile.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Alby," he adds.

"That's not what we need you for, Alby," Cyrah says, making a _duh_ face. 

"What, then?"

"They know each other. He knows her name and she knows him."

"Can you stop talking about us like we're not here?" Cyrah and I ask at the same time and then laugh, because why not?

Alby rolls his eyes and squints at us for a bit. 

"Uh..maybe we should settle this matter _after_ we go up, give the tour, and get food," Cyrah cuts in when we all stare at each other. Easy to see why she's the only one here with common sense.

"Sure," Alby says and climbs up the rope. Cyrah follows and I step on the rope next. When I'm about to climb it, the rope suddenly launches up and I'm jerked to the ground above, which is grass.

"Oh, sorry, Minho," Cyrah says, giggling softly at my fall. She offers a hand up and I take it since it's the only hand I trust. She pulls me up with enough force, surprisingly for her size, and I look around the place Newt called 'the Glade'.

I notice she doesn't let go of my hand.


	9. Chapter 8

Alby's P.O.V.

There's a lot of tension with the new Greenie. How to put it...Ah. He's making Newt a bit...jealous. Put it in one word, give or take, that kinda thing. I mean, it's not the serious jealous kind of thing since they only knew each other for a week, but he's probably insecure. Yeah, _insecure_ is how I'll put it.

"Newt, can you take care of Minho and give him the Tour?" Cyrah asks, already skipping towards the kitchen. 

_I don't think she notices the tension between those two...but I'll leave them to it, maybe they'll find a compromise (and hopefully making Newt less jealous)._ "Uh...a-alright, Love," Newt agrees, albeit reluctantly.

I follow Cyrah, not wanting to witness the drama that'll surely erupt and also hoping to pick up some cooking tips (I'm not sure if they'll work for me, though).

I give Cyrah an expression that hopefully means " _Are you sure this is a good idea?_ " and she shrugs. I'm gonna trust her, she's the closest thing to someone who knows what they're doing. Heck, she probably _does_ know what she's doing.

"Hey, Cyrah? Is it okay if I watch what you're doing?" I ask.

"Alright. Trying to polish our non-existent cooking skills, are we, Albert?" She jokes. I hate when she calls me Albert, but at least my name isn't "Newtie". I don't even know how Newt puts up with that girl, but she is the only one who does the stuff properly. It's like she was _trained_ to survive in the wilderness before she came here.

"Yeah," I agree, reluctantly. No matter how much it pains me to admit, cooking is _not_ my secret ability. "I'll just watch and try to improve my 'non-existent cooking skills', as you put it."

"No problem," she agrees and continues frying whatever she's doing on the pan.

"What are you making?" I ask, pointing to her pan. Maybe she'll whip up something fancy for the new Greenie...and then I can pitch in when it comes to dinner. On the eating part, I mean.

"I'm not making anything special for the Greenie, Albert, so get the idea out of your system. You just want to eat the food anyway, you're not _really_ concerned about Minho's food." _Busted_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cyrah's P.O.V.

"Nice try, Albert," I say over the hiss of the frying pan. I _am_ making something special for Minho's arrival, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Why?" Alby whines. " _Please_ make something good!"

"I might..." I say, pretending to consider. "If you do well in today's cooking lesson."

Alby looks eager to start and stands up straight immediately. "What are we making today?"

**Time-skip to An Hour and a Half Later –––**

"Good job, that's considerably better than your last attempt at it," I sigh, offering my compliment that is _most definitely_ sincere. His last attempt was two days ago, and the meat was completely fried to a crisp. 

"I know," he agrees, taking a tiny bite of the mini turkey roll we made. I swear, that guy doesn't have a shred of modesty.

"Alright, let's go put this outside and make sure Newt and the Greenie got along," I instruct.

"Yeah, about that..." Alby mumbles. 

"What?"

"Uh...nothing?" He tries. I know he's hiding something but I don't press.

"Let's go already."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Newt's P.O.V.

"So. Greenie." 

"Are you just gonna talk or are ya gonna give me the stupid Tour?" The Greenie, or Minho, demands. 

"Patience," I huff, which just makes him roll his eyes at me. 

It's already bad enough that I don't really like Minho, ever since he knew Cyrah's name and didn't let go of her hand. And he's handsome, too, and more muscular. Maybe she'll fall in love with him and then –––

"Uh, Dude, are you okay?" Minho asks, snapping his fingers in a Z formation in front of my eyes as I blink back to reality. "Your face is red." _Is it?_

I touch my cheeks, and to my embarrassment, they _are_ heated. "M'alright," I mumble, mortified that he caught me in _that_ moment.

"Are you thinking about a _special someone_?" Oh, how I just wish I can _strangle_ the Greenie. "I might not remember anything about my past life, but you can always come to me for relationship advice..." He offers.

"Shut up, Greenie," I hiss through my teeth. If it wasn't for Cyrah politely asking for me to "take care" of him, I would have killed him.

Minho absentmindedly twirls and then puts something in his mouth. On further observation, it's a necklace. "Greenie, you don't know where that thing's been, take it out of your mouth."

He takes it out and looks to the stone surprised, almost like he had no idea the stone is there. "I-I don't know, I think it was a habit from...before. I didn't even know that necklace was there." 

We both study the stone that still has traces of saliva. The stone is a dark crisp green with a few occasional lighter dots, the shape of a perfect circle, quite flat, with a small hole in the middle.

The disk-like stone was polished to perfection other than a few shallow scratches here and there. There are a couple of small gold inlaid designs and characters, the figures to small to depict from this distance. The stone is strung on a thin gold chain which is looped through the hole in the middle.

If we were out of this place, I'd say the necklace would have been expensive. 

"Anyway," I clap my hands. "Let's go."

In the next hour and a half, I really get to know Minho better, and I would say he's the sassiest person I've ever met (not that I've met that many people, not ones that I remember, anyway) and he's actually a nice person.

"What's that?" He asks, gesturing towards the doors. 

"Oh, those are the doors to the maze. They'll close soon. We haven't really explored _properly_ yet, we were thinking of going out soon."

"Huh," he muses and watches the doors for a bit.

"Dinner is ready!" Alby's voice booms from the kitchens. That guy really has a talent for yelling. To be honest, I think that's why he and Cyrah bond together so well.

"And Albert didn't ruin dinner for once!" Cyrah adds, and I can just imagine the glare that comes her way after.

"Let's go eat, Minho," I say and beckon him towards the kitchen.


	10. Chapter 9

Thomas's P.O.V.

I watch the teenagers on the screen, one of them being my best friend and the others being the brother of my best friend, a close friend, and another close friend (and the probable crush of my best friend). 

She was so brave to volunteer for this mission. She didn't have to go. And yet she did, and she could die at any given time; the maze isn't safe.

They're discussing exploring the maze the day after tomorrow. I just hope that they stay safe from the grievers. I shudder as I remember Randall, Dr Leavitt, and Ramirez. And how Minho tried to escape with Gally and they were discovered, the punishment. The griever, the casket, the fog.

I flashback to the moment that Minho and Newt discovered the necklace hanging on a gold chain. The family heirloom that both vowed to protect and never take off. Luckily, Teresa managed to successfully sneak it in for Minho on his way up, and I hid Cyrah's in her lip balm box.

Stage one of the plan complete. The plan to escape, the one I devised with Cyrah and Teresa a while ago. Get Cyrah inserted into the maze and then when we come in with our memories intact, Cyrah will be the person with triggered memories since she has the special ability. 

Aris and Rachel agreed too, both will have their memories. Our main thread of communication will be Cyrah after she has her memories restored.

Minho was furious when he found out, of course, but that couldn't be helped.

**Flashback –––––––––––––––––––––––**

_"Where's Cyrah?" Minho demanded as soon as Teresa and I entered the cafeteria, without Cyrah following, of course._

_"The...maze..." Teresa murmured, looking down to her trainers._

_"YOU SENT HER TO THE MAZE!" He shouted, growling and clenching his fists._

_"Listen, Minho," I said, raising my hands in a peace gesture. We really needed him on our side. "She volunteered. It's our plan."_

_"You do remember how the last plan went..." he mumbled, looking down. I did._

_"No offence, man, but the last plan went badly because_ you _were planning it," I joked, trying to get him to crack a smile. It works, though his face falls immediately afterwards, remembering the consequences of last time._

_"But what if...I can't let something happen to her..." he muttered, putting his necklace, the one he said was a family heirloom, in his mouth and chewing on it slightly._

_"Stop doing that, Minho," Teresa said, gently guiding the chain out of his mouth. "It's gross."_

_"Am I going in after her?" He asked, his face seeming hopeful yet afraid at the same time._

_"Yeah," I admitted._

_"Can you make sure I get this in?" Minho asked, pointing to the wet jade necklace that he wore on his neck, the stone falling just a bit below his collarbone._

_"Yeah, we already made sure Cyrah had hers'," Teresa said. "And you'll have yours'."_

_"Thanks, guys, really. For being my best friends."_

**–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

And like promised, we still plan to protect Cyrah. And the lucky thing is that WICKED needs her alive for her to produce more blood. So if worst comes to worst, at least she'd be alive. So will we. Hopefully.


	11. Chapter 10

Cyrah's P.O.V.

"No, we can't!" Alby yells, his voice muffled by the roll he's stuffing into his mouth. That kid? He has no table manners whatsoever. I mean, yes, we _are_ trapped inside of a prison, surrounded by an unmapped maze, but hello? We're still people and it's uncomfortable for someone to watch you stuffing your face like that!

Anyways, back to the conversation. As you can see, Alby and Minho are arguing about the maze.

"But we have to!" Minho shouts back, clenching his fists. When he's shaking his head back and forth, I can see a green stone with inlaid gold hanging on a fine gold chain. It looks familiar, too familiar, almost. Like the memory is just above my head like one of those cat toys, but I just can't get it, every time I get close, someone jerks it away.

"We don't know what's out there! And we're safe here, temporarily, at least! Me and Newt have barely explored the maze, and what if we get lost? How is Cyrah going to survive here on her own?"

I clench my fists tightly, not noticing the glance Newt sends my way. The bickering gets louder and louder, and the buzzing in my ear increases. " _SHUT UP_!" I scream, making them both go dead silent.

"You two need to slim it. Here's what we're going to do. You are going to do it, or _I'll_ knock some sense in for you since neither of you have _any_ at all. Minho's right, we have to _try_ , but we can't just recklessly head out into the unknown **(See the Frozen 2 reference I made there? xD)**. We have to _try_ and find the exit. We're exploring the maze the day after tomorrow, but first, we need to prepare. Train with weapons, make a plan, everything. So –––"

"Cyrah –––" I shush him with a look.

"I'm not finished yet. Also, it's ' _Newt and I_ ", not " _Me and Newt_ ", Alby. And I _love_ how you're just _assuming_ that I won't be coming with you and I'll work by myself if you go into the maze and die. Just because I'm a girl does not mean I need to be treated like glass." Newt and Minho groan simultaneously when I correct Alby's grammar. Looks like those too will become great friends.

"I can't believe you're taking _his_ side, Cyrah!" Alby bursts out furiously, slamming his fist onto the table. "Him! The Greenie! He doesn't know _jack_ about this Glade!"

"But they're both being bloody reasonable, Alby!" Newt grumbles. "Can we all just do what Cyrah said and bloody eat in peace?"

"Newt, you're only taking their side because –––"

"I know what you're going to say, Alby," he growls. "But it's not because of that. They're being reasonable, you're not. We're going to have to get out eventually, and if you don't go out there, we won't. It's a maze, just solve it and go home!"

"Fine," Alby mutters. "Shank."

"What's a Shank?" Minho questions. "Is there some slang that I'm not catching on, here?"

The conversation slowly becomes lighthearted again, and I silently thank Minho 134 times in my mind. "No, Alby's just a big fan of randomly making words. It's easy. Um... 'shuck', 'slinthead'."

"Wait, so far we've got 'shank', which is an insult to a person, 'shuck', which I'm assuming is a curse word, and 'slinthead', which is another insult. 'Klunk' is poop or a swear word. 'Slim', which means calm. How 'bout 'Greenie' means newbie?"

"I like it," Minho says, grinning.

"Good idea," I add. "Wait, doesn't that mean logically, something like...'shuck-face' can also be a word?" 

"Hmm...yeah, I think it does. Let's add that to the vocabulary list, exclusive for us Gladers."

"How long did you spend coming up with that name?" I roll my eyes, making Minho follow.

"I would tell you, but I doubt you'd understand," he shoots back.

"Huh. Isn't that your fault, though? That you don't know how to give a simple explanation?"

"You guys are impossible," Alby mutters.

"Live with it, Alby," I deadpan. "You're the oldest here, you have to take care of all the little kids who are a year younger than you are."

"Cyrah, I'm pretty sure _you're_ three years, if not four, younger than me. What are you, 12?"

"Yes, on a scale of one to ten. Besides, _act_ like I'm 'two years, if not three' years younger instead of being a...shuck two-year-old and I'll consider it. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm at least 13, perhaps 14, since I would say I'm about as tall as Newt." He's a bit taller, but same difference. I made air quotes at the part when I'm taking out his words since when you copy words from someone else, they need to be in _quotations_! 

"Ooooohh! BURN!" Newt practically squeals.

"She's got you there..." Minho adds, perfectly accentuation his undertone, which is a sing-song voice suitable for babies.

"You guys are so childish!" Alby growls.

"Ahem..."

"Well, Newt and Minho are," He corrects instantly.

"Good," I agree. "So we're going with my plan, right?"

"It's not like you gave us a choice, Cyrah. 'Here's what we're going to do. You are going to do it, or _I'll_ knock some sense in for you.' That's not agreement, it's a threat, although you don't look very intimidating," Newt reasons mockingly, mimicking me. 

I put a hand on my chest, faking being hurt. "You're taking _their_ side, Newt?" I sob dramatically. "I can't believe you! You're a traitor!"

"You see, that's what _I_ thought when you took Minho's side instead of mine!"

"Shut up, Alby!" I grumble. He only smirks knowingly.


	12. Chapter 11

Newt's P.O.V.

"Greenie, as part of the initiation ceremony, you get to be the lucky one who does the dishes," Alby jokes, tossing the rag. He's trying to get out of doing dishes.

"Nice try, Albert," Cyrah says, calling him out. "You just want to get out of doing the dishes."

"But –––"

"Nope, you're doing dishes," I say, backing Cyrah up, totally not because of my silly crush that she obviously doesn't reciprocate and I should just give up on but I can't and all that other klunk which makes it so annoying and –––

"Hello? Earth to Newwwwtt!" Minho sings, going especially high pitched at the 'w'. "Thinking of something...or should I say someone... _special_ , aren't you?"

"Pardon?" And at this, I thank the Heavens for making Cyrah oblivious as shuck, because she doesn't get it even after the insane number of hints that I've accidentally dropped (or my evil friends have implied).

"I can't believe you still don't get it, Cyrah! How do you not know what we're talking about!" Minho swoons dramatically and then facepalms.

"That's b-because there's n-nothing to t-talk a-about!" I stutter. Smooth, Newt...

"No joke, lizard," Alby says. "That's only for Miss Oblivious."

"Ne aliquid ex nihilo?" Cyrah asks. I've got no clue what it means, I expect it's some other language that I didn't learn from before. I'm not the only one, Alby and Minho give her an exasperated look. 

"What the shuckiest shuck is that shuck supposed to mean?" Minho rattled.

"It's _Latin_ , guys," Cyrah sighs. "It means 'don't make something out of nothing'."

"It isn't ' _nothing_ '!" Minho groans as I shoot him an especially smug look.

"Yeah, it is, guys! Just give it up, already!"

"I think you ought to stop," Cyrah reprimands, and I thank her 128 times in my mind for coming to my rescue.

"If only you'd realise..." Alby mutters.

"Now...Let's discuss why you two know each other," I say, sitting back. The dishes can wait and so can everything else on my love life. Preferably delaying the rejection for as long as possible.

"I don't know," Minho says simply. "The only thing I knew was the two names, mine and Cyrah's, and it was like the instruction to find the girl named Cyrah was imprinted in there somehow, and everything clicked when you jumped down the box."

"That necklace looks familiar, too," Cyrah says, pointing at Minho's necklace, the one he put in his mouth. "I can find the memory, but when I get to it, someone takes it away, like one of those cat toys." After she says that, I vaguely remember a furry animal chasing a brightly coloured feather, jumping and landing on its back paws.

Minho presses his thumb on the latch of the chain, and it springs open. He puts the necklace on the table, and like kids at the sweet store, we crowd to take a closer look, our heads pressed together.

Now we're close enough to see the figures and characters deciphered on the stone, but I can't understand the language the characters are written in.

"Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten," Cyrah and Minho blurt out abruptly, synchronically.

"Huh?" Alby questions, not _quite_ catching on. In fact, neither am I.

"The inscription, guys?" Minho says, waving towards the stone.

I study the characters again, trying to jog out any sign, a whisp of a memory. None.

"That's a jade stone, see," Cyrah says, motioning towards the stone. "The gold inlaid pictures are...hmm. I think that's fishing, planting, hunting. Oh, and cooking with fire, perhaps? And that inscription is a family motto. I'm not sure what language that is, though."

"How do you know so much?" Alby questions, squinting slightly at the jade.

"How am I supposed to know _that_?" Cyrah counters, giving him a look. They do their usual staring contests, but like always, Alby gives up first.

"Fine, whatever."

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" I ask, changing the subject.

"We wake up early, eat breakfast, and go to the weapons room to get weapons and try them out in the forest or a field somewhere. At lunch, we can make a plan to explore the maze, which will be split into categories of food and water, weapons, and mapping supplies. And no, we won't be going into the maze. After that, we'll continue weapons training for a bit, explore the glade further, eat dinner, and then free time, then bed," Cyrah lists off her fingers.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Alby salutes.

"I think this is a brilliant time to go to bed, considering no one has anything else to say," Cyrah says, glancing outside. "We need an early night to train and plan tomorrow, and it looks pretty late already."


	13. Chapter 12

Cyrah's P.O.V.

_Hello, Cyrah,_

_I know you are annoyed at this message. I know you too well._

_I'm sorry I had to visit you in your dreams._

_But if you're receiving this message, step one of the plan you agreed to is already complete._

_Wait for my cue for step two, you'll know later, I'll tell you. Don't solve it yet._

_Good luck._

_\- Your best friend_

I wake to, tangled in my sheets, the nightgown hitched up at my lower thighs. I think back to the dream that I had before. _Step one... what plan did I agree to? Does it have to do with me being inserted into the maze? Why couldn't 'my best friend' put their name? How did he or she visit my dreams? Most important of all, what's the cue?_

Since there's nothing to do, I take off the nightgown and put on the robe, shivering slightly when my bare skin meets the damp and chilly air. I open the door slowly, not wanting to wake Alby, Minho, and Newt. As I tiptoe past the doors of the occupied and empty rooms, I notice that the door to Minho's room is also slightly ajar.

I go to my favourite spot, and I notice that the sun is already up, though quite low, and the sky is orange. 

"Morning," Minho says, emerging from the pillar next to where I sat down on the steps of the Homestead. He looks tired, a bit crumpled, wearing a hoodie and shorts.

"Morning to you too," I say, yawning slightly at the last word, my breath hitching.

"Uh-huh. What are you doing up early?"

I quickly weigh my choices. If I tell him about the dream, they may be suspicious, and the dream could also just be that. Only a dream. And I would have wasted their time. But I could also withhold, but what if the dream was genuine? I decide to tell them if the events in the dream happen. "Nothing, I had a weird dream and couldn't sleep, so I came here. You?"

"I don't know, I think I'm just an early person."

"Hmm. Do you think we should wake them up or should we wait a while, taking mercy on them?"

"I don't know. We can go check and see if we're feeling generous?" Minho offers, and a devilish smirk appears on his face. I feel one curling up on mine as well, and for anyone watching, we must have matching looks, our wide smirks and narrowed eyes.

"Great idea, Greenie," I whisper now, getting into character.

"Don't call me that!" Minho protests. I snort, knowing _exactly_ what my next comeback will be.

"I didn't call you ' _that_ ', I called you ' _Greenie_ '," I say in a fit of giggles.

"Really, _Shank_ ," he grumbles. "Let's go already, or else they'll wake up."

"No need," Newt says smoothly, ––– wait _what_? ––– jogging down the steps. Well, he _was_ smooth until he got a glance at what I'm wearing, which he turns beetroot red at. I follow his eyes to my robe, which he stares at with his mouth open slightly, face red. "I-I'm up. What secret plan were you two hatching? Can I get on it?"

I bat my eyes innocently. "No sir, we were just going to scare you and Alby awake, but we don't need to do that for you anymore since you're already awake. We'll just...you know...'get' Alby."

"Yeah...Count me in!" Newt squeals, gesturing towards the Homestead entrance. "What are you gonna do?"

"We...haven't thought about that, yet," Minho confesses.

On instinct, I hum a tune, watching their rather amusing conversation. 

"You know that song, Love?" Newt asks, giving me a shocked look. No one ever gets their personal memories back. This is a new record, I suppose.

"Uh-huh...wait! Shut up, guys!"

"Well, that's nice," Minho grumbles and then shuts his mouth. Newt just does it, looking utterly bewildered at what I'm attempting to do.

I pick at my brain, concentrating on playing the tune of the song over and over again. The lyrics appear slowly, in different verses, but the end result is satisfying.

" _You are my sunshine,_

_My only sunshine._

_You make me happy,_

_When skies are grey,_

_You never know dear,_

_How much I love you,_

_So please don't take my sunshine away._ "

I finish singing and both of them clap. "What for?"

Newt blushes. "Nothing, you just have...an angel voice, Love."

I feel my cheeks flare pink in embarrassment and flattery. "Thanks, Newt."

"Lovebirds, if you guys are still on for the plan, I have an idea," Minho offers, wiggling his eyebrows up and down at the word 'lovebirds'. For some reason, Newt shoots Minho a dirty look, one that promises murder. I mean, I understand why he's mad at the nickname, he doesn't like me, but I don't think a little bit of teasing warranted that.

"What's your plan, then?" I ask.

"What's your plan, then?" Minho mimics, trying an especially thick accent like mine which ends up extremely butchered. Newt and I both roll our eyes simultaneously.

"Seriously, haven't you had enough of that?" Newt groans, irritation prominent in his voice. "He mimicked me yesterday during the tour and it was shucking awful."

"Shank," I mutter, making sure Minho catches it. I receive a glare in return. "No, seriously, Slinthead, what's your plan?"

"So. My plan is for us to go chargin' into Alby's room and holler that song in our worst singing voice, especially loud. How's that?"

"I hate to admit this, but that's completely and utterly brilliant." I deadpan and give him a high-five.

"Yeah, Man, we've really got to do that. Quickly now, before Alby wakes up," Newt adds.

"Come on, let's go," I hiss and we sneak to Alby's room, tiptoeing across all the creaky floorboards.

"Ready?" Newt asks when we get to his door.

"Yeah," Minho agrees.

"Definitely," I confirm.

"Let's go. 3...2...1...Now!"

And then we all slam the door open and sing You Are my Sunshine. You can guess Alby didn't give the _best_ reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are my Sunshine by Johnny Cash: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGa3zFRqDn4&feature=emb_logo&ab_channel=Tanktiger18


	14. Chapter 13

Minho's P.O.V.

"YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE, MY ONLY SUNSHINE. YOU MAKE ME HAPPY WHEN SKIES ARE GREY! YOU NEVER KNOW, DEAR, HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU. SO PLEASE DON'T TAKE...MY SUNSHINE...AWAY!" We all sing on the top of our lungs, more like hollering, slamming the door of Alby's room open as he bolts awake in bed and lets out a girly scream.

"You idiotic Shuck-faces of the Slintheads and –––"

"Now, now, Albert," Cyrah interjects, using a "motherly" tone. "Pay attention to your language, please."

Alby growls furiously, making Newt and I inch towards the door while Cyrah stands where she was, a sly smirk crosses her face. That girl's got guts, if it wasn't for us being cornered, I would have ran instead of facing a cross Alby, and so would Newt, probably.

"Cyrah, who's idea was this?" Alby demands, glaring at all three of us. 

"As I love the name of honour, more than I fear death," she quoted dramatically, pretending to swoon afterwards, holding her hand to her forehead and bending her waist elegantly. No clue where that fancy quote comes from, she knows _way_ too much of that stuff.

"What the _shuck_?" Alby asks. _Exactly_ what I was thinking.

"It's from the play Julius Caeser, written by William Shakesphere."

"How do you even know that klunk?" Alby asks, frowning.

"You try, I'm sure you'll remember something general, not personal, though."

"I don't know, Love," Newt says. 

How I wish those two would just _get together_! They are my _OTP_! And Newt's doing the worst job of pretending he doesn't like Cyrah. I'd say she's doing better. Of course, I feel like _strangling_ Newt if he _dares_ hurt Cyrah despite the fact that I've only known her for one day, though it could just be my older brother instincts activated for someone younger than me. 

After all, I had a sister. As far as I know, I still do.

**Flashback –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

_Minho's Dream -_

_"Hey, Brother," The little girl said, walking into the room with two other blurred faces following. The only thing present Minho could tell was that it was a boy and a girl, the girl had tar-black hair, but her's was curly, and not as beautiful as his sister's. Never as beautiful as Sister's. The boy had brown hair and he could make out wide eyes._

_As for the little girl, she had a small face, wide amber doe eyes unproportionally big. The hazel colour was dotted with little emeralds and specks of earth, striking. She had straight black hair that hung midway to her back, let loose in a silky curtain. Paler skin than his. She also had an odd accent that was like Newt's, British._

_He must have been about 11, his little sister 9 or 10._

_"Sister?" The younger Minho shouted, then slapped a hand on his mouth. They'll hear us. The only problem is that his dreaming brain didn't know who "they" are._

_"Newt brought me, he said you'd be here," Sister said, smiling, and ran over to hug him._

_**Timeskip ––––––––––––––––––––––––** _

_They were sitting on the floor of the maintenance room together, the little girl and the boys as well as the other two were talking. Minho just sat behind his sister, weaving her hair while sucking on his pendant. He notices the girl has the same pendant as him._

_"Stop doing that, germs!" Sister reminded him. He knew she need not look at him or talk to him to know what he was thinking. That applied to everyone. Sister_ always _knew what people were thinking or doing._

 _"Wow, Minho, I didn't know you had it in you to_ plaid hair _!" Alby joked, pointing to the little girl's hairstyle, which was a waterfall with small, neat, braids._

 _"Oooo..." Newt sung. "Guys, Mr. Tough's a_ hairdresser _!" This was followed by snickers from the girl and the three boys._

**–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

"Min! Still here with us?" Cyrah asks, waving a hand in front of my face.

"What––I–––yeah..." The sudden picture of Sister, then Cyrah, gives me deja vu. She reminds me of Sister, hazel eyes, black hair, charming personality. Not to mention the accent.

"Never mind. We're gonna eat, Mate, you gonna come?" Newt asks, beckoning me towards the door. Alby looks less angry now, and he's actually wearing a smile!

"Yeah, let's go."

"Race to the kitchen?" I ask Newt, and he nods. 

"I'm joining!" I'm about to say there's no way she'll win, but decided against it. She'll kill me if I do.

"You in, Alby?"

"Uh...no," Alby says. "The last time we raced, Cyrah won and I tripped face first on the grass."

"It was _hilarious_!" Cyrah chokes out, giggling. Newt snorts. 

"Yeah, it was. You should have seen it, he was –––"

"Shut it, Newtie Cutie!" Alby says, clapping a hand on his mouth.

Newt scrunched his nose and Alby shakes his hand away. "GAH!" The palm of his hand is wet, so I'm assuming Newt licked it. Brilliant.

"Sorry," Newt mutters, clearly not sorry.

"3...2...1...GO!" 

I run as fast as I can, leaving Newt behind. I turn next to me and see Cyrah taking the same route as me, smirking when I realise we're tied. I put extra spring into my step, but she follows. The race ends with a tie between Cyrah and me, and Newt lagging behind, heaving for breath.

"How the... _pant_...shucking... _pant_...hell _...pant_...do you guys run _...pant_...that bloody fast?"

"Practice?" I answer, shrugging. How am I supposed to know?

"Hey...guys...wait for...me!" Alby yells, speed walking towards us, his figure looking small from the distance.


	15. Chapter 14

Cyrah's P.O.V.

After eating a delicious meal – obviously done by Yours Truly – and making a plan training plan, we headed to the weapons room.

The plan consisted of training in partners, just for a bit, mainly with things like spears, daggers, and arrows, long distance weapons. 

"Welcome to the map room, Greenie," Alby says, in a better mood than he was in this morning. It's kind of our fault, but I don't mind that much. The reaction was _priceless_. I wish I could ask the creators for a taping device and film it, girly screams and all.

If only we weren't trapped in here, life would be a breeze.

"Now I can come here without them mimicking me...instead, we'll do it the other way around!"

"You're still on about that, Albert?" I grumble, shaking my head. 

"Yeah. You _owe_ me!"

"For –––"

"You don't have to say anything," Minho hastily says, covering my mouth.

Me being me, I decide to lick it. Lucky for him, just as I stuck my tongue out, he pulled his hand away. 

"Have your pick, guys," I say. "Be careful with them, don't swing it around and all of that." I'm trusting them to not sneak up on me and kill me, but who knows? Hopefully, things go as planned.

Alby walks the daggars while Minho and Newt look at the spears. I turn around slowly, letting my eyes sweep over all the shiny weapons, each one made of metal and plastic and wood and materials that I don't even know the name of.

I stop abruptly when the most _magnificent_ wooden bow catches my eye. It was a simple bow with a quiver of a dozen arrows. As if in a trance, I slowly walk to the bow, lightly feeling every centimetre of the wooden surface. This feels natural to me, and I grip the weapon like I've done it before, my left hand wrapped around the wooden handle, beneath the hole for the arrow.

"I see you've found your first weapon," Alby comments. "I think I might try archery, too."

"I'm gonna go for this spear," Minho decides, shifting a heavy-duty wooden spear which was tipped with a deadly point, the carved spearhead.

"I'll try the daggers, then," Newt says, grabbing a few – obviously random – daggers. "Maybe I'll practise throwing fighting hand-to-hand combat or something, don't think I'll be much good at throwing."

I walk over to Newt's corner of the room, studying his daggers. "I think you're doing it wrong. See, that one is best for throwing if you want to hit a side angle, or when it's closer. _That_ one, the longer one with the black handle-piece, you would use it to fight in hand-to-hand combat. That one with the curved blade and narrower handle is supposed to be for long-distance throwing. It's heavier. If I were you, I'd practice the short distanced ones first, since they're lighter and you use less of your wrist." 

"Bloody hell, Cyrah," Newt groans. "How do you know all of this klunk?"

I shrug. "Don't know. Probably just something from before. Maybe I used to hunting with my family or something..."

"Yeah...I think I'm gonna try spears instead, after your dagger lesson, those knives don't look _as_ appealing. Too complicated for me." Newt walks over to the spears area, eyeing the vast arrangement of metal, bamboo, and wooden spears.

"I think..." Newt gives all the spears a good look-over. "This one. It could work for both jabbing and throwing?"

Minho makes a face and hands Newt a bamboo spear. " _No_ , Dude, _this_ is the lighter version, you would jab and throw in angled directions with this. See the spearhead? And the metal ones are for long distance. The spears are classified on how they spin."

"Seriously?" Newt practically _screams_ , his frustrated voice echoing strangely in the dark room. "What were you two before this, army directors?" Nonetheless, he takes the offered spear from Minho.

Minho smirk. "You wouldn't know." 

"Let's go, guys," Alby says, beckoning towards the door. "We don't have all day."

" _Actually_ , we do," I retort pointedly.

"I hate you," Alby grumbles.

"Love you, too." I see Newt tense at this. _Huh? Did he and Alby get into a fight or something?_

"You wanna be my partner, Cyrah?" Alby offers.

"Wow, so much for 'I hate you'," I mock, sticking my tongue out.

"Shut up!"

"Nuh-uh, manners."

"No, Cyrah's gonna be _my_ partner," Newt argues. "I can't do klunk without her."

"Um...no. I think I'll partner with _Minho_ instead," I mumble, managing to successfully sneak out the door.

"YEAH!" I hear Minho scream from inside. "See? You shuck-faces –––" 

I poke my head in, just to catch Newt shoot Minho daggers with his eyes. If Newt's aim with _real_ daggers was as good as his eye murdering, I'd say whatever's outside has no chance. Though not having me as a partner isn't _that_ bad, so...I have _no_ clue what's up with Newt lately.

"Come on!" I shout, interrupting Newt's continuous dagger feast at Minho.

"Coming! Gosh!" All three grumble at once.

"You know, if it wasn't for the fact that you three look so different, I'd say you guys are triplets!" I mock in my best baby voice (which I thought was pretty good), giggling. 

"Shut up!" All three blurt simultaneously.

"I refuse to be siblings with _those two shanks_!" Minho adds.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind being siblings with Alby. Or Minho. Newt? I don't know."

"Oooooo!" Minho and Alby squeal. Wow. I can't believe this. _ALBY_ knows how to _squeal_? "Did you hear that, Newt? Feeling better, now? Still mad at Minho?" _Huh?_

"Shut your holes," Newt groans.

"I change my mind," I mutter. "I don't want to be siblings with you shucked up shuck-faced shanks. You'll infect me."

"Thanks, Sis," Minho sighs. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information about the weapons is not reliable. I based it on logic rather than research, so don't use these unless you're in a serious situation. This may or may not work, considering all of the above is logical but not confirmed by reliable sources


	16. Author's Note

Hello to everyone reading this story,  
  


I wrote this story two months ago. That's one fact. Another fact, one that I don't know if you've noticed (I certainly did while I was reading the story) was the grammar mistakes. It's...kind of unbelievable how many of those are in there, especially considering the fact that I'm certain that I did editing before sending those chapters out, but no matter, now.

This note is being written to inform you that this story is on temporary hold. For those of you who enjoy the plotline, subscribe to this series and you will be notified when I post a new chapter. I will be rewriting the story, and this time, I will make a plan before I proceed. 

Thank you to those of you who are reading this story, and I will update when I'm ready to face the ridiculous amount of mistakes and bad writing.

Thank you, all.  
  


\- Izca


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